


There Comes a Time to Ask for Help

by asexualjuliet



Series: Haunted by the Past [4]
Category: Everwood
Genre: Bright Abbott has PTSD, Doctors & Physicians, Gen, I can’t stop writing about Bright I’m so sorry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The working title for this was “more bright abbott?? in my google docs? yes im so sorry”, discussion of panic attacks, this fic is mary safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualjuliet/pseuds/asexualjuliet
Summary: “What can I help you with today?” Dr. Brown asks.“I, um,” Bright starts. God, why can’t he get the words out? “Are you a mental health care provider?”Or, Bright starts to deal with his shit and gets some help.
Series: Haunted by the Past [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838590
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	There Comes a Time to Ask for Help

**Author's Note:**

> i cannot stop writing about him oh my god! this is probably ooc especially wrt andy because i’ve never written him before but i hope you enjoy anyway
> 
> Direct sequel to “I crash and I break down”

He’d heard Grandma Edna mention she had Wednesday nights off, so he’s here now, Wednesday night at seven, standing outside the old train station as snowflakes fall down around him. 

He doesn’t want to do this. The mere idea of telling someone about what’s going on with him kind of makes him want to throw up. 

But if Doc Brown can help him, it’ll be worth it, right?

 _(God,_ Bright hopes so).

He’s greeted by refuge from the cold and an empty waiting room when he walks into the old station, and he starts to think that maybe this wasn’t a good idea. If no one sees him here, he can still walk out and go home, right?

He’s debating his choices when Dr. Brown walks out of his office, and just like that, all his choices disappear. 

“Bright?” says Dr. Brown, looking a little surprised to see him. “Are you looking for Edna?”

“No, I—I know she has Wednesday nights off,” he stutters, “I, um—” Bright has never been so tongue-tied, and he would like it to stop right now. 

Dr. Brown looks at him oddly. Bright takes a deep breath and says, “I was wondering if I could talk to you?”

“Of course,” Dr. Brown says. “Come into my office.”

Bright nods and follows Andy into a smaller room off the lobby. He sits down, and Dr. Brown does the same. 

“What can I help you with today?” Dr. Brown asks. 

“I, um,” Bright starts. _God,_ why can’t he get the words out? “Are you a mental health care provider?”

Dr. Brown looks at him again, and Bright figures it’s probably because _mental health care provider_ is the most intellectual term he’s ever heard Bright use. 

“Not officially,” Dr. Brown tells him. “But I do know a thing or two about the brain.”

 _Yeah, no_ shit, Bright wants to say, but he doesn’t. He’s not sure he’d be able to get the words out if he tried. 

“Can — Do you know about, like, trauma?” Bright asks, and, recalling the terms used in the internet article he’d bookmarked on his computer, he says, “Like post-traumatic—post-traumatic stress disorder?”

He looks up at Andy and can only imagine how young and scared he himself looks to the older man. 

“I do,” Andy says, nodding. 

“I don’t—” Bright starts. “I think—”

Deep breath. Calm yourself the _fuck_ down, Abbott. 

“I think I might have that,” he says. “Post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“Well, that's understandable, considering what you’ve been through,” Dr. Brown tells him. “What sort of symptoms are you exhibiting?”

“I, um, I looked it up, I googled it, and the internet said they were called panic attacks?” Bright says. He doesn’t know why he says it as a question. 

Dr. Brown nods. “And how long have these attacks been happening?” he asks. 

“Since the accident,” Bright says, with no hesitation whatsoever. “Or maybe a few days after.”

“And how often would you say they occur?”

Bright thinks back. “They happened a lot when he was in the coma,” he recalls, “but they kind of backed off when he woke up. Um, since he died though, it’s been maybe seven times?”

Dr. Brown nods again, scribbling something down. “Okay. Are the attacks triggered by anything in particular?” he asks. “It could be a memory, a situation that reminds you of something that happened that day.”

“Yeah,” Bright says. “I had this thing about driving with other people in the car? I was, um, I was the one driving when… when it happened.” He avoids Dr. Brown’s gaze when he says that. 

“I’m not sure if I still freak out when I drive other people around, I haven’t done it in a while. And it happened when we tried to go to the Fourth of July festival a few months back.”

Dr. Brown writes down something else. “So you’ve been having panic attacks every month or so for a little over a year?” he asks. 

Bright thinks about it. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Can I ask what your symptoms are when you experience a panic attack?”

“Can’t breathe,” Bright says immediately. “It’s — my chest gets kind of, like, tight, and it makes it hard to breathe. I get, like, kind of shaky, I guess, and the back of my neck gets hot. Sometimes I feel kind of sick.” He shrugs. “It sucks.”

Dr. Brown huffs a laugh. “Well, your description certainly fits with the symptoms of a panic attack. I think it’s very likely that you are experiencing some kind of trauma-related anxiety.”

“Wow,” says Bright. “Okay.”

“It’s a lot, I know,” Dr. Brown tells him. 

Bright nods. 

“It’s very likely that you are indeed suffering from PTSD,” Dr. Brown says. “In order to properly diagnose you, I would have you fill out a psychological evaluation.”

“But you’re not going to do that,” Bright says. The word _would_ tipped him off. 

“No, I’m not,” says Dr. Brown. “I happen to know that your father is your primary care physician, and I can’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t be the better man for this job.”

“You know about brains,” Bright tries, but even as he says it, he knows it’s no use. 

“I know you came to me because you felt like you had no other options,” Andy says. “It’s clear you haven’t told your father about this.”

Bright says nothing. God, is he really that transparent?

“I think you should hold off on diagnosis until you’ve told your father about what you’ve been going through,” Dr. Brown tells him, and Bright sighs.

“I know,” Bright says. “I just...” he trails off. 

“I understand,” says Dr. Brown, and a silence washes over them. 

“Are we—can we be done here?” Bright asks after a second. 

“Yes, we can,” says Dr. Brown. “Thank you for coming in today, Bright.”

Bright nods. “Thanks,” he says, getting up from his seat. 

“Of course,” says Dr. Brown, and Bright heads back out into the snow. 

He’s really not looking forward to the next conversation he has with his father. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> All mistakes are my own, please let me know if you see any!
> 
> Kudos/Comments are greatly appreciated!


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